"This spot is perfect!"
After scouting the coastline with Alyn and the others for the fourth time, Logar finally made his decision.
To his left rose a sheer volcanic cliff. To his right lay a narrow bay that, at low tide, exposed a wide stretch of slick black rocks—forming a natural bowl-shaped trap.
Grey Ghost had stolen Silver Denys's catch right here the day before. Wild dragons were creatures of habit; it would almost certainly return to the same hunting ground.
Logar wasted no time. He had his men anchor a small boat loaded with fat sturgeon right at the water's edge—the fish laced with expensive poison bought from a Braavosi merchant.
Next came the heavy iron chains: one end bolted deep into the rocks with thick wooden stakes, the rest carefully hidden beneath seaweed so not even a glint showed.
Three heavy scorpion crossbows were set up behind the rocks, crews ready and waiting.
Logar himself slung a massive crossbow across his back, checked the poisoned bolts, and crouched with Alyn and the rest behind the boulders.
Grey Ghost had just eaten; it wouldn't return soon. They settled in to rest and wait for nightfall.
By evening the sky had gone dark. Only the endless crash of waves broke the silence.
They waited for hours. Dawn was already painting the horizon pale when Alyn suddenly hissed, "My lord—it's here!"
Everyone tensed. A pale-grey shadow sliced across the night sky.
It was Grey Ghost. The dragon circled warily above the boat, claws snatching a few fish at a time, swallowing them mid-air.
After several cautious passes and no sign of danger, it finally folded its wings and dropped onto the wet rocks beside the boat.
Logar let out a slow breath. Good. It took the bait.
He held the signal, wanting the poison to work fully and weaken the beast before they struck.
Grey Ghost's appetite was enormous, and sturgeon was its favorite. It tore into the catch with wet, crunching sounds, fish juice spraying everywhere.
Minutes dragged by. The men stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, watching the dragon gorge itself.
When Logar judged the poison had taken hold, he gave the order in a low, steel-hard voice:
"Now!"
His men sprang up and hurled a huge weighted net from the rocks. It dropped over Grey Ghost like a shroud, tangling its wings.
At the same instant Alyn and the others yanked the hidden chains. The iron links burst from the seaweed and snapped tight around the dragon's legs and torso.
"ROAR!"
Grey Ghost let out a startled shriek. It thrashed wildly, trying to take off, but the net tightened with every movement and the spiked chains bit deep into its scales. Pain and rage turned its cry into a deafening scream.
"Now!" Logar roared.
He raised his heavy crossbow and fired. The bolt screamed toward Grey Ghost's left eye—but the dragon jerked its head at the last second. The shaft glanced off its facial scales in a shower of sparks.
"ROAR!"
Enraged, Grey Ghost reared up on the slippery rocks, mouth opening wide. A torrent of dragonflame erupted in every direction.
The blast wave nearly knocked the men off their feet. If the stakes hadn't been driven deep, Grey Ghost would have broken free in seconds.
"Scorpions—fire!" Logar bellowed.
Three scorpion bolts launched at once, all aimed at the head and wings.
Grey Ghost twisted with terrifying speed. It dodged the first, but the other two struck home—one punching into the base of its left wing, the other burying deep in the soft flesh beneath its right eye.
"SCREECH!"
The dragon's scream split the night. Pain and fury made it thrash like a storm. It beat its wings desperately, trying to rise, but the chains held fast.
"Aim for the eyes!" Logar charged forward, reloading his crossbow on the run.
Grey Ghost spotted him. With a savage twist, it lowered its head and rammed its horns straight at him.
Logar had no time to dodge. The impact hurled him backward. He slammed into the rocks, chest exploding with pain, blood filling his mouth.
"My lord!" Alyn cried, starting forward.
"Don't stop! Keep shooting its eyes!" Logar forced himself up, spitting blood, voice raw.
He knew if they faltered now, they would all die.
Alyn gritted his teeth, snatched up a spare crossbow, and fired at Grey Ghost's right eye. The bolt missed the pupil but tore through the socket below.
The dragon went berserk. It lunged at the nearest man—Alyn—claws outstretched.
We're dead.
The thought flashed through every mind. The men froze, staring at the oncoming monster.
"Get back!" Logar roared.
With the last of his strength he raised his crossbow and loosed the final bolt straight into Grey Ghost's left eye.
The shaft punched through the eyeball with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed like a fountain.
"SCREEEE—"
The dragon's scream was ear-shattering. It reeled, clawing at its ruined eye, poison now racing through its veins.
Its legs buckled. Wings fluttered weakly. The flames it tried to spit came out as thin, dying wisps.
Logar seized the moment. He sprinted forward, gripped the heavy iron spear he had prepared, and drove it with all his might into the dragon's throat.
Alyn and the others threw their weight against the chains, pinning Grey Ghost down so it couldn't thrash free.
The dragon's struggles grew weaker. Its amber eyes dimmed. Blood poured from its throat and ruined eye, pooling across the rocks and staining the sea red.
A final, pitiful whimper escaped its jaws.
Then it went still.
The beach fell deathly quiet. Only the waves and the ragged breathing of the men remained.
Grey Ghost was dead.